


The Moon From Malta

by syub_syub



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Also Irish Bombs, And I describe silence a lot, BTS in Malta, Cute Kim Taehyung | V, Fluff, Kim Taehyung | V Is a Sweetheart, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, M/M, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Bad at Feelings, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Whipped, Min Yoongi | Suga-centric, Soft Kim Taehyung | V, Soft Min Yoongi | Suga, TG18DAY1, Taegi Week 2018, The Moon - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bon voyage season 3, taegi - Freeform, taegiweek18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syub_syub/pseuds/syub_syub
Summary: When Yoongi leaves Malta, he gives Taehyung his hat. Two days later, he gives him a promise (albeit one he doesn't mean to make). In Seoul, Taehyung takes his hand. Gives him the moon.(Or, a one shot based on the overwhelming taegi in bvs3)





	The Moon From Malta

While Hawaii had certainly brought he and Taehyung closer, Yoongi had never considered himself to play a particularly key role in whether or not the younger had a good time.

 Jimin was his closest friend. Jungkook, despite looking like a rabbit, was in many ways a fellow puppy, always ready to comfort or play. Namjoon was his roommate - Yoongi himself knew just how much that meant. Seokjin could play with Tae like the maknaes, but he offered a deeper sense of support and structure as the oldest hyung. Hoseok was similar in many ways to Taehyung himself. And Yoongi... Well, maybe Yoongi produced a song now and then that the younger liked the feel of, liked to jam out to. Maybe he provided a sense of guidance in the musical field. But he certainly wasn’t an important factor in whether the maknaes enjoyed themselves - though whether he was key in bringing the good times to an end on occasion could be debated.

 So Yoongi, despite the many things he might understand about Taehyung, doesn’t even realize how sad his early departure from Malta makes the younger Daegu boy.

 ∞ ∞ ∞

They’re all disappointed when he’s called back to Korea, but there’s a family emergency - there’s nothing they can do. It’s nothing they can help.So, wishing he had a longer vacation but thankful that he got chance to go fishing with his hyung the day before, Yoongi had, like the older members, accepted things easily. Even Jungkookie dealt with it well, despite his eyes being a little glassy, a little too avoidant of his own as he muttered, “Irish bomb” before grabbing Yoongi and hugging him until the rapper had to tap out in order to breath once again.

Yoongi had been expecting the pout from Jiminie, the puppy dog eyes from Taehyung as he placed his hat with unnecessary flourish on the other’s head (an action that got him another suffocating hug, this time from the fellow Daegu native). But after he was gone, he knew they would all brighten up almost instantly - after all, it was less than a week until they’d see him again, and they were spending that time in Malta.

So Yoongi goes home. He gets on the plane, sleeps when he can, and then he’s in Korea, headed for Daegu, and Malta is a pleasant memory he hopes to hold on to for a long time.

 ∞ ∞ ∞

 It’s two days later when he gets the call. It’s early, somewhere before eight in the morning, but Yoongi is awake. Sadly even being back in Daegu doesn’t mean a rest for him.

 He’s a little surprised when he sees the caller ID, sees the picture of Jimin underneath the characters of his name, and as he picks it up, he tries to do a bit of maths in his head. It’s something he can do quickly, but with questionable accuracy. Nonetheless, he estimates that it must be somewhere after ten or eleven pm in Malta at that moment, and he’s confused when he answers.

 “Yoongi hyung?”

 “You called my number, didn’t you?” He responds, not particularly consenting to the tired drawl that he speaks with, but not bothering to fix it either.

 Jimin is quiet for a moment, Yoongi hears him sigh on the other end of the line. He considers being insulted, but decides it’s too much effort.

 “‘What is it, my dear friend Jimin?’ you ask?” Jimin finally says, and Yoongi wants to be irritated by his tone, but he’s not. “Well, hyung, it’s Tae. He misses you. No one knows why.”

 “Funny.” Yoongi deadpans, trying to act unbothered, like Jimin’s words haven’t sent his mind screeching to a halt, like they haven’t made his heart jump or twist painfully because - _Taehyung is sad_? Because of _Yoongi_? He hates it, hates that he can’t do anything about it, but he also kind of expects Jimin to say then that he’s joking - none of them miss him. They’re just fine, maybe even a tad relieved.

 Except the vocalist just giggles softly and says, “I’m joking, Yoongi hyung. We all miss you.”

 Yoongi makes a sound that could be disbelief or something contemptuous, but otherwise he ignores the comment. “What’s wrong with Taehyung?” His voice is rough but he’s anxious, needs to know why Jimin has bothered to call him over something apparently they all feel.

 “He cried tonight, because he misses you. They filmed it but I don’t know whether they plan to air it. And he wears that hat of yours all the time. Kook had to take it off him when he fell asleep last night because he was going to crush it else, and who knows what he’d do then? Probably jump in the ocean and try to swim to Daegu, I expect.” Jimin rambles, and when he’s done, Yoongi hesitates.

 He doesn’t what he feels then, only that he doesn’t like it, and he doesn’t know how he’d put it into words, but he doesn’t have to, because he would never say them out loud, anyway. So when he replies, all he says is, “...He’d have some trouble doing that. Daegu isn’t by the sea.”

 “I know.” Jimin responds easily. “That’s how desperate he is.”

 Yoongi rolls his eyes, yet something in him flares up, wants to snap at him for making fun of Taehyung when he’s sad, even though he just did it, even though Jimin is fiercely protective of the other 95 liner, wouldn’t hesitate to tear even his hyungs a new one for upsetting him. So he bites his tongue, fights back anything out of character, and instead just sighs. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Call him.” Jimin suggests readily. “Let him tell you about Malta or ask you about Daegu.”

 ∞ ∞ ∞ 

Yoongi does call Taehyung. He brings up his number, selects it, sits nibbling his thumb anxiously as he adjusts how he’s sat, clears his throat, fidgets again. It only rings a couple times before engaging, and Yoongi is just opening his mouth to greet him when a deep voice beats him to it.

 “Yoongi hyung!” It’s so similar to only minutes before, to Jimin’s greeting, except now his name is spoken without hesitation, is exclaimed with enthusiasm and a boxy smile that Yoongi can _see_ , even though he can’t.

 “Taehyung-ah.” He says, smiling a little himself. “Are you taking good care of my hat?”

 There’s a moment of silence, almost like Taehyung is nodding, before he realizes quickly that Yoongi can’t see him. “I’ve been wearing it everywhere I go, just like you said.” He tells the rapper eagerly. “It’ll see the whole of Malta!”

 “Good.” Yoongi says dryly. “I’m sure he’ll be heartbroken if he doesn’t.”

 Taehyung hesitates this time. “Probably.” He responds, tone a little softer now, and Yoongi waits. “I miss you, hyung.”

 “Taehyungie.” He admonishes. “What did hyung say? We’ll all be stuffed in the dorm before you know it. Just enjoy your vacation now.”

 Tae is silent, and Yoongi swallows thickly, wants to tell him he’s sorry he had to go, that he misses Taehyung too, wishes the other was with him, but none of those things make sense logically. It’s not Yoongi’s fault he had to return to Korea; sure, he misses him, but he was right: they’ll all be cramped in the dorm together in less than a week, anyway; and there was no rationale for wishing Tae was with him, no more than the rest of Bangtan, anyway. He’d never seen eye to eye with the vocalist, had always done his best merely to keep their relationship friendly for the sake of BTS, and although that had grown quickly from tolerance into a genuine appreciation of the younger, from silence because they’d argue if they spoke to quiet because words weren’t necessary, there should be no reason why Yoongi suddenly wants Taehyung beside him, right? No reason why he wants to hug the other Daegu boy, to latch onto him and hold his hand until the younger not only stops missing him, but is sick of Yoongi altogether.

 Yoongi doesn’t say any of that when he talks next. And although he’s called Taehyung, he doesn’t talk about Malta - at least, not specifically. He doesn’t mention Daegu, either, like Jimin had suggested.

 Instead, they talk about the art Taehyung has seen during the trip. They talk about how everyone kept dropping the meat on the ground when the members (read: all of Bangtan bar Yoongi) had a cook out. And they talk about the moon.Taehyung loves the moon.

 He calls it the finest painting he’s ever seen, hung high in the night sky so everyone can enjoy it, all over the world, and when Yoongi says quietly that the two of them can watch it together, even if they’re apart, the line goes quiet and he thinks maybe he’s said something wrong. And by ‘maybe’, he means definitely.

 He goes to apologize quickly, afraid he’s messed up well and truly, but Taehyung interrupts the words, tells him just as quietly that maybe they can watch it with less space between them when they’re both back in Seoul.

 Yoongi’s heart doesn’t quite know what to do then, and neither does Yoongi himself, and both just seem to... stop. He wonders when he backed himself into this corner, why he doesn’t think he minds. Wonders why he opens his mouth and agrees.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Yoongi is back at the dorms by the time the others return to Seoul, and he’s spent the entire day leading up to their arrival antsy and unable to sit still - a foreign thing for him, and he had to say, he wasn’t fond it. His nap had been fitful and he couldn’t rest, couldn’t close his eyes for long before he was overcome with a pining that he’d admitted to only a handful of hours ago for Bon Voyage, and that had seemed to do nothing but grow since.

Yoongi has always appreciated having his own space, having his own time to breathe and finally be still, but he has been only lonely since he left Malta. The desire to be with them, to be on vacation again, too hot but otherwise relaxed and surrounded by that low buzz of familiar chatter is strong, makes his heart twist a little painfully when he dwells on it, but he knows he can’t. There’s something bitter that spills into the mix at the thought of how he was robbed of memories and experiences with his fellow members, and he hates how frequently life and responsibility pulls them apart and fucks them over even when they’re supposed to press pause for a minute. He hates how even for Bon Voyage, even for friendship trips and temporarily cleared schedules, they get put in different places, be it by lost passports or personal issues. But those things can’t be helped, and it’s bitter, but a pill he must simply swallow anyway.

The van finally pulls up before the dorms, and Yoongi can hear it, has maybe peeked out of the corner of a curtain, but now he’s nibbling his thumb nail because he wants to rush to the door and swing it open, to grab the hand of the first person he sees, yet he can’t. Pride or a sense of obligation or some other twisted, restraining thing keeps him glued to his spot, and instead he waits anxiously just inside the hallway before the door.

When the key slides into the lock and turns it over, he feels a rush of excitement that he knows is foolish, because they live together and he saw them only a few days ago. And yet the moment they all come crowding in seems to have arrived slowly, at a pace painfully lethargic even to Yoongi, dragging itself inch by inch across grating stone, time turning thick and slow like syrup, delaying their reunion.

“Yoongi-hyung!”

Just like that, the viscidity turns to glass that’s shattering, falling to pieces around him as Jungkook bounds forward, and he’s bracing himself as the (adorable) muscle pig maknae collides with him.

Yoongi pats his back as the younger man bends down to press his nose against his shoulder, grinning despite himself.

“Irish bomb.” Jungkook mumbles, and Yoongi laughs softly and shrinks away.

“Irish bomb, Junkook-ah.” He says lightly, turning his attention to the other men looking at him.

Jimin is next to greet him after he’s released from Jungkook, and then Hobi hugs him too, and Yoongi already feels like the centre of attention by the time Namjoon tells him he missed the elder and was looking forward to catching up.

Whether or not Yoongi was secretly preening under the limelight was no ones business.

Jimin and Jungkook seem ready to burst with all their stories as they wait for Seokjin to finish patting Yoongi's head and saying, “you would have loved the special dinner, Yoongi-yah” (that makes him suspicious).

But then Taehyung is there, is _right there_ , wrapping his arms around Yoongi and hugging him tight, and suddenly it’s gone silent. Or maybe it hasn’t. All Yoongi can hear is his heart struggling to escape the bone prison that is his chest, and he has to wonder if maybe everyone else can hear it too. Maybe that’s why they’re not talking anymore. They’re listening to Yoongi descend into cardiac arrest and are trying to think of a way to warn him without first killing him of humiliation.

“Yoongi-hyung!” Taehyung says almost belatedly, previously too busy trying to cuddle as close as possible to Yoongi’s chest while standing an annoying handful of inches taller than the rapper himself. “I missed you.”

And it’s nothing the other five hasn’t said, but it’s making Yoongi's gut tie itself in knots suddenly, and he swallows thickly and finally moves his arms to return the hug, sliding them around Taehyung’s neck before he can realize that’s not what he’s supposed to do. His fingers curl against the nape of Tae’s neck and he can feel the other’s pulse, fluttering fast underneath his touch, and he wants to press closer but that in itself is what makes him lurch back, retreating a handful of steps from Taehyung before he dares to glance at him.

“You too, Taehyungie.” He mutters quickly, avoiding the curious glance Namjoon gives him.

They had hugged for too long, and it sounds like such an immature thing to say, too childish almost for the person he is now, how _old_ he is now, but it’s true. He had held Taehyung for a handful of long seconds more than he had any of the others, and there’s a brief moment where they all recognize it, and it kind of makes him want to squeeze himself through the crack in the closest window and run for the hills, but some brief debate leads him to the conclusion that he’s probably too old for that, too, so he settles on clearing his throat and turning to the others, all already babbling excitedly about where they went and what they saw.

∞ ∞ ∞

It’s hours before things in the dorm have settled down. They all shared stories well into the evening, sometimes taking turns and other times chattering at once, almost fighting to be the loudest just to tell the anecdote first, but then Seokjin will complain that it’s hurting his ears and Yoongi will honestly attempt to bite his tongue but instead he tells him to just take his hearing aid out, and then the conversation devolves into laughter from the maknaes as Yoongi bickers good naturedly with his hyung.

Namjoon is a little clingy even though he doesn't say much, and Yoongi thinks its cute, lets him shift closer to the elder and melt into place there, and if Taehyung stares for a minute almost as if he wishes to trade places with the leader then Yoongi doesn’t notice.

He hears a lot about what he missed in Malta, from flyboarding to a dinner in the sky (Yoongi can’t say he’s particularly bitter about that one), but he doesn’t say much about his time in Korea by himself. He’s asked the basic questions, of course he is - they care - but he doesn’t have a whole lot to say. They’re well informed of what happened with his family already, and he feels like he said more than enough for Bon Voyage, so instead he lets the others talk on until they all part ways after dinner to get some rest.

Jimin hugs him again on his way to bed and Namjoon squeezes his shoulder. He gives a fist bump to Jungkook, who glances at him sheepishly, and when he asks what Irish bomb is, he gets a toothy grin and a “friendship!” in response.

Seokjin tells Yoongi that as eternal roommate, his door is always open if he wants to talk more about Daegu, and Yoongi appreciates it, thanks his hyung as the blond pads down the hall.

Hoseok is tired and grumpy pouting by this point so Yoongi urges him to go to bed, and the dancer's pout intensifies.

“You said you were lonely, Yoongi-hyung.” He says. “I don’t want to leave you all by yourself.”

Yoongi feels a swell of affection rise in his chest and opens his mouth to convey that by exasperatedly telling him to go and get some rest so he can steal his energy the next day, but Taehyung speaks first.

“It’s okay. I’m not going in yet.” He puts in. “I’ll keep him company, hyung.”

Yoongi has half a mind to tell them to stop talking about him like he’s a child, but instead he just gestures for the bedrooms.

“Go rest, Hobi.” He tells him. “I’m fine.”

Hoseok doesn’t protest anymore as he drags himself up off of the sofa, retreating down the hall in a groggy daze, and then there’s a sort of hush that washes over the room.

Yoongi glances at Taehyung, expression softening when he sees how tired the other Daegu boy looks.

“You can go to sleep too, Tae.” He says softly. “You don’t have to stay up for me. I might as well go to the Genius Lab.” And it was true. None of them had the next day off, so he ought to make the most of the time he did have free.

But Taehyung doesn’t seem to share his sentiments, shaking his head softly instead. “I’m not done telling you about Malta, hyung.”

“Then where are you going?” Yoongi quips, a little amused as he watches Taehyung get up from the sofa, slippers making soft sounds against the floor as he pads away. He’s greeted with silence and almost wants to tell Tae off for ignoring his hyung, but then he’s reappearing with their coats in hand, and Yoongi just blinks.

“Put it on, hyung.” He encourages him. “I want to see what the moon looks like from Seoul.”

Yoongi’s thoughts stop for a moment but many words land on the tip of his tongue, things he should say about how long Taehyung has fucking lived in Seoul, how many times he’s looked up at the night sky before from places all over the world, but instead he lets his fingers curl into the fabric of his coat.

He gets to his feet and tugs it on, pulls it tight around himself as he follows Taehyung out the front door, and they walk away from the dorm for a while until they’ve stepped beyond the warm, wan yellow ring cast by lights spilling from open windows.

It’s quiet, almost so silent that it feels fragile, a precarious thing rested on the edge of an unstable surface, as if Yoongi’s rising heartbeat might just thump too hard and cause it to shatter, and he barely breathes as Taehyung steps closer, wordlessly reaches out.

Yoongi feels Tae’s fingertips brush against his wrist, warmth bleeding out across the iciness of his body, and he worries that his pulse gives him away before the touch is moving on, fingers gliding down across his open palm to entwine with his own, and Yoongi feels his breath hitch.

It feels as if time is held suspended then, like it takes a pause as Yoongi wonders whether the silence is toppling over, if the air catching in his throat is enough to break it, and he doesn’t know when it became so important, almost as if encased within the walls of silence is something dangerous and exciting and important in equal measures. As if fragmenting the quiet will release it, and it will be something they can’t put back in, can’t fight back into a glass prison held together with tape. They won’t be able to ignore it if they set it free, and that terrifies Yoongi, makes him itch to cling to the silence.

It should be dark where they are now, but even far from the dorm, from the warmth and familiarity the light leaking out provides, they stand underneath the moon, and it bathes them in a soft silver glow that Yoongi can see dancing on the edges of Taehyung’s hair.

It’s unfamiliar, every part of this is, but it’s not bad, Yoongi doesn’t think anything can ever be bad if he’s hand in hand with Tae and staring at the moon. It’s the only thing bright enough to be seen from the middle of Seoul at night.

It’s vastly different from the moon in Malta, Yoongi realizes, and then only moments later Taehyung is saying the words out loud, as if the thought has passed from Yoongi’s brain straight into his, and the silence trembles, slides over the edge and Yoongi can feel when it breaks, but all he does is grip Tae’s hand tighter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to feed into my praise kink by dropping a comment to let me know what you think. 
> 
> (You can also talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/y00mgi) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/yoongis_hands))


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